The girl tossed and turned in her bed, her frame more skeleton like than human, skin weakly hanging on to the bone, muscle almost non-existent on her malnutritioned looking body. Wide brown eyes were exposed as she stared at the ceiling, seeing the other world, the world beyond this one. Her mouth moved, but no words came out, she was in a dream, a nightmare, but talking still, but not in this world.

Who was she? An innocent maiden born to the Cursed Star. Damned to die before her prime, she was suffering from an uncurable condition, a curse that has transcended her family for generations. Her name was Tiri Belignant, and she was a spirit talker.

In her dreams she walked through decrepid ruins and ancient towers, all matters of civilization both organic and not in various stages of life. Some pristine and new, some withering, some decayed. She could look into the pools of the stagnant water and see her companions in this quest, and glimpses of a myriad of possible futures for them. Tiri walked on though, she wanted to talk with someone special. In these dreams, she became aware she was in the world for the dead, a place of beauty and horror. In one small corner she found a spirit who was gentle and kind, and when she dreamed these dreams would always search to find him.

But this time, things were different. He was disappearing, dissolving before her eyes. His spectral frame seemed to be eroding as Tiri approached him. "Meimurei!" She shouted out, not knowing what was happening to her friend as she approached. "What is happening to you? Where are you going?" She asked upon getting almost in touching distance from him with the beginnings of tears in her eyes. An innocent smile, more humanlike than any other visage of his, crossed the ghost's face as a spectral hand was placed on her shoulder. "It is my time to return, Tiri. I have served my purpose for you, and I may once again try life. I was alive once, I am a ghost now, but I will be reborn again. Perhaps... in one of our many lives to come, meet again." He said, a soft laugh echoing as he fully disappeared. The girl was left to cry, knowing that the one face she recognized in this land was gone.

The next morning, Tiri awoke to the smell of her tears. As she called for an escort to keep her upright, the far too sickly girl left her tent, heading into town. She wanted air, wanted to be away from her companions. Passing by a family with a newborn in tow, she felt a familiar presence. Watching the happy family, she recognized the feeling. The newborn... "... Meimurei..." She whispered to the wind.

It was at this point that the sickly maiden came to understand things. While finishing her quest would mean this body dies, it would by no means be the death of Her. She was, She is, and She will be. As she remembered the parting words of her spectral friend, tears began to roll down her face as she smiled. Yes, perhaps one day, they will meet again...

And with this knowledge, she no longer feared the future and the end of the quest. This body would just finally have it's time to rest.

"Not The Last Goodbye."

This was the ending everyone sought. They chased the sun and moon, fought all the creatures. And though many were lost along the way, no deaths were in vain. For this moment, this hour, was theirs. The travellers, bound by fate and deities, had championed over their opposition. As the corpses fell and the chosen ones smiled, one among them turned to pain.

Their task was done, she could feel her life slipping away. A curdling scream of agony, one unlike anything she felt, was all that was felt as she fell to the ground, convulsing and shivering. The curse would take her, it is her fate. But for a few moments in the pain, for just a few brief moments of time, she was calm. Her voice became even and flat, her body still in an almost trance like calm. A smile spread across her face as she looked to the sky peaking in through the cracking ceiling. "And with the death of one comes the sacrifice of me." She whispered, all too aware of what was happening. "Do not fear, do not cry, don't be sad. Perhaps..." She trailed, one last strong breath entering her body. "Perhaps we will all see each other again some day, and swap stories."

"... Mother... come and take me to the old house where the grass was green and the birds flew high..."

Despite her shriveled appearance, looking far more like a skeleton than any human naturally should, there was a strange peace and appearance of nobility to her in those moments as her life's candle was finally snuffed out.

The ghost of Tiri would be heard wandering the places known to her companions, watching over each of them as a sort of guardian angel. And when each of their times came, they all went back to try life again, but this time as a group... and all at once. They would travel and adventure together. New names, new faces, but old souls remember.

"No, I Will Not."

The soft steps of leather shoe upon soaked mud faintly echoed as a robed and hooded figured wandered through the swamplands her kind called home. Pale skin was licked by moonlight, but the slow walk through her kingdom was spoiled by a faint sound Tiri barely heard, stopping to focus on it. It was the drawing of string. An archer was in the area, and judging by the sound was no friend to her or her people. Like a statue, Tiri stood, waiting for any alert, any sound. Eventually, it came... the release of string, the hiss of something in flight. A quick sidestep and the arrow landed where her foot was mere seconds ago, two brown eyes staring into the trees of the swamp, wondering where her would be assailant came from.

Eventually, an elf of unknown kind, dressed in moderate amounts of steel mixed with leather and wearing a mask who's face gave the impression of intense focus. Beneath the constructed appearance came a feminine voice: "A most perfect evil, appearing so innocent but harboring the most destructive method of murders and genocides, behind the mask of innocence." The voice boomed, echoed by the rain that started as the lightning began to fall, drenching the young human girl of pale skin who looked scared beyond all measure, and her attacker. "But what did I do to deserve being hunted like boar or deer?" She asked, bringing her arms close to her before throwing one to her side in frustration. "I have done no evil, done no wrong! I have done what was RIGHT! The Queen HAD to die, the Goddess said s--" A ball of flame flew forward, striking her square in the chest and sending her against a tree, knocking the breath out of her. A horrendous cough could be heard as she tried to get the air back in her lungs. The stranger marched forward, the steel and gemmed glove glowing bright from the heat it released.

"BLASPHEMER! What goddess would demand the death of Royalty so that lesser folk can overthrow her? What holy deity would demand the death of our leader?" It screamed, each step seemed to bring down more lightning. The human stood up, trying to stare at this figure and show her power but finding it unable, for Tiri has always been scared of those that live. "Neoma of the Moon." Was all she said, causing this stranger to stop. Another ball of flame was beginning to form in the metal hand. "I know well the path of Neoma, and she would never decree such a thing."

Tiri grew tired, and could feel the pain beginning to surge as day was coming. Masses of material looking akin to Muscle reached up from the marsh, grabbing the Elf's limbs and holding her down, face first against the wet ground. She walked forward and kneeled beside this stranger, sad it had to be this way. "An evil person would kill you. But I will not. I am not cruel, and while I understand your reasons, it is not right of me to slay you. Do not return, and leave my people alone. We may be the Vampires of your children legends, but your legends do not know the truth."

Tiri resumed her walk, knowing the muscle veins will hold the elf down for several hours as she worked out her anger. An expression of sadness came as Tiri reflected, wondering why her goddess would send her down such a path, where she was constantly hunted and pursued.

The elf would obey the Matriarch's request, and when the rotting muscle had released her, calmly left. She did not agree with them, but perhaps it was wise to not challenge them. Any enemy who would spare you after you engage was one to fear.

"I Slew Your Queen."

The quickened pace set forth by leather soles upon soaked mud firmy echoed as a robed and hooded maiden wandered through the swamplands her kind called home. Pale skin was licked by moonlight, but the quick walk through her kingdom was spoiled by a faint sound Tiri barely heard, stopping to focus on it. It was the drawing of string. An archer was in the area, and judging by the sound was no friend to her or her people. Like a statue, Tiri stood, waiting for any alert, any sound. Eventually, it came... the release of string, the hiss of something in flight. A quick sidestep and the arrow landed where her foot was mere seconds ago, two brown eyes staring into the trees of the swamp, wondering where her would be assailant came from.

Eventually, an elf of unknown kind, dressed in moderate amounts of steel mixed with leather and wearing a mask who's face gave the impression of intense focus. Beneath the constructed appearance came a feminine voice: "A most perfect evil, appearing so innocent but harboring the most destructive method of murders and genocides, behind the mask of innocence." The voice boomed, echoed by the rain that started as the lightning began to fall, drenching the young human girl of pale skin who looked scared beyond all measure, and her attacker. "But what did I do to deserve being hunted like boar or deer?" She asked, bringing her arms close to her before throwing one to her side in frustration. "I have done no evil, done no wrong! I have done what was RIGHT! The Queen HAD to die, the Goddess said s--" A ball of flame flew forward, striking her square in the chest and sending her against a tree, knocking the breath out of her. A horrendous cough could be heard as she tried to get the air back in her lungs. The stranger marched forward, the steel and gemmed glove glowing bright from the heat it released.

"BLASPHEMER! What goddess would demand the death of Royalty so that lesser folk can overthrow her? What holy deity would demand the death of our leader?" It screamed, each step seemed to bring down more lightning. The human stood up, trying to stare at this figure and show her power but finding it unable, for Tiri has always been scared of those that live. But then something happened, and Tiri became... Consumed... by another fragment of her being, someone not so merciful, someone not so kind. A wicked smile stretched across that pale face that once seemed innocent. "I slew your Queen. I slew your homestead as well. You want me to be the monster? Fine... I can let the monster out. Let me be your monster." Was all she said, causing this stranger to stop. Another ball of flame was beginning to form in the metal hand. "Your time has come to an end."

There was only one way that this could end, when two forces collide and one follows wrath while the other follows their own path. Blood stained both of them, and soon Avuna found her needed moment, landing a complex spell of Bane onto the Elf, finally paralyzing her in place.

Avuna calmly walked over to the girl writhing in pain, kneeling next to her and covering the mask's mouth to silence the Elf inside. "A kind soul would save you, but I am not in the mood to deliver mercy. Why don't you come with me, Judge Anu? I'm in need of new bodies for... Experiments..." She whispered, a wicked smile spreading on her face as she did so.

The elf continued to scream in agony from the effects of Bane as she was bound and dragged away. The elven Judge was never to be seen or heard from again until her masks were delivered to the kingdom of her origin, each of them stained with her own blood and carved into with messages of Warning. None have decided to test the fury of the Matriarch since this display.

Judge Anu is very much alive, but in a sort of stasis. Never to leave the Swamp, never to die, but never to feel at ease again as she feels the pain the Vampires suffer from, feeling the Curse of Rot infect her entity, just so that Avuna can have more Rot to work with in testing Bane Magic.

"Reformation Through Fire"

All around was nothing but fog and smoke, an empty silhouette in an empty marsh with no sight of anything living or dead for the soul to see. It wandered, invisibly parting blades of grass as delicate and damaged feet take step after step, following their instinct until they found a decaying temple, the highest peak appearing to of been dissected by a blade, the rest of the temple covered in growth and cracks. This told Tiri she was in the world for the Dead, and she cautiously moved her way further into this Temple. She felt... Called, almost... to this place.

Once she was inside the temple, it seemed as if the entire world changed, from holy visions of the gods and the worlds beyond to a nasty sepulcher that smelt of fire and ash, the feeling of heat driving her forward and not wanting to look behind her. Eventually she fell through a hole in this sepulcher, waking up in a new location, a different temple. What sort of nightmare dream was this?

"You are in no dream." A soft voice echoed, causing the still near invisible silhouette to stand up, looking around to try and find the source of tihs voice. Still nothing, but soon the walls decayed and stone turned to emptiness, again the feeling of falling before she stopped, now floating in nothingness, surrounded by a blinding light.

Scenes of her life flashed around her, the smiles and laughs, everything she enjoyed and put to good use. Every selfless sacrifice, and every noble act was shown, one after another, giving the silhouette a solid form that was starting to make its surroundings look dull and weak. The soul was happy and began to run around, no longer content to shuffle about in worry or concern. Tiri was happy, but eventually it ended. Again, what was once solid ground disappeared, but still she didn't fall. Rather, she ascended, rising back into that sepulcher she was in earlier, except in the fires now. Ash and dust lashed out at her as now every villainous deed she performed was portrayed before her, overwhelming her and barraging the soul, turning the soul from that lovely white to a deep darkness that absorbed the light around it, in some attempt to redeem itself as it witnessed all the horrors. All the people left to die, all those she allowed to die as she watched. Those she 'donated' her pain to, glad to watch them shatter and turn to corpse, those who she killed not because she had to, but because she could. Every moment ever held where the urge to do something because she could overwhelmed the need to see if she should.

At this, the silhouette was pure of evil, forgetting all good it could have ever done, and weeped in sorrow of everything, feeling horrible and worrying what her fate was, as she did not want to go to the Demons below. A gentle laugh, however, echoed over the soul as the fire disappeared, showing a very human woman who dressed heavily with symbols and emblems related to the moon, shoulder length silver hair and pale skin made her stand out in the darkness. "Don't worry, my Champion." She whispered, the area around Tiri bending and warping before she felt herself being moved by some otherworldly force and came to in a desert. Standing up, the darkness walked, and walked. For what felt like years in this nightmare made by the Divine the Shadow walked and continued, never finding shelter from the blistering sun. But as she walked, the Shadow realized somthing, that she was no longer purely darkness, but that she was starting to brighten, her shadows turning grey instead of the darkest blacks. At last, the entire landscape seemed to be set alight by cinders and even the sand burned. As these unnatural flames licked at the Shadow, the world spun around again, landing her into a gentle forest.

Scared beyond all measure and cautiously getting up, the Shadow looked over at a lake and stared into it, seeing who it was in life, but with a confident face and a wicked smirk. "Even the innocent have shadows, and it is from these opposites that make you." The voice was bodiless again, and a strange serenity came over the Shadow as it watched the reflection show a bright, blinding silhouette that changed to the most defiant darkness only to return to some sort of neutrality, a grey spectre stared back at Tiri in the water. Again the haunting human seemed to appear beside Tiri, placing a stone in her hands. The grey spectre changed, going half to that blinding white while the other half that light absorbing darkness, giving the appearance of a half moon.

"But yours must be kept in check. Your shadow is all you wish you could be, but it is also what you never want to be. It has its own name, just like you have yours. You are you, but it is it. You must never let them learn what your shadow's name is, as your shadow has power over you. If you lose that name to others, you are damned to be a slave. Avuna will protect you when the shadow must take over where lights will not, but you must be there to keep Avuna in check, Tiri Belignant. Now go, return to the mortals, and show them what happens when one girl with a heart of coldest steel can turn it to Gold or Iron at will." The silver haired beauty said, grabbing Tiri by the shoulders and leading her away towards a portal. From the backside of Tiri's face came a horrible face, one that was the exact same, but something seemed wrong, demonic, her smile and eyes showing the elements of torture and disgust while the girl who led the way was optimistic and happy, though this back face would disappear.

"The Shadow That Feeds"

A malformed human seemed to wander aimlessly through an aimless field, a female left bleeding and injured in its wake. "You should have done the deed instead of leaving her back there." A serpentine voice hissed, echoing off the back of the figures head. The human looked... deformed. Claws where nails should be, spikes and small wings on his backside, his face elongated and given a predatorial appearance. "She did nothing wrong with her demonic pets." The jaws moved this time, a gutteral voice echoing out from the person as he continued further into the horizon.

Eventually he came upon a pillar of smoke in the sky, following it to a bandit camp where a single old man sat in meditation holding a dagger, surrounded by dead bandits whom looked to be ripped apart. He stinks of Sulfur. There's demons about"I know."

The two would stare each other down, the malformed humanoid extending his claws before running forward only to be struck by what felt like a wall of air. Turning to see what hit him, a brigh glow of color seemed to float in the air. So there was a demon without an appropriate mortal form? The malformed human, an entity who named itself Demon Eater, charged forth.

The battle would last for several hours. Eventually the Eater stood over the bodies of the two Kings of Hell he had felled, feeling their energies be drawn into himself as his own body transformed to match the surge in power.

He grew taller, he became wider. His wings expanded to a vast size as his claws scraped the ground, his horns encased with mana multiplying both in number and in size. Bouts of flame began to spew from cracks that formed in the side of his lips. What was once a single tail split towards the middle of its length and became not two, but three. Each tail end tipped with a different kind of mana, as if they were acting much like his horns. His skin cracked and looked less like skin and more like patches of rock.

With the transformation complete, the ground quaked as he walked. The Demon Eater had feasted and gorged on the strength of the strong, determined to continue this process until he could do whatever he so desired without worry. The malformed human would continue to argue with the voice in his head as the two wandered out of the plains, both trying to figure out who was the winning point in the battle.

"Nothing's Really As It Seems."
(Currently a WIP)

Under inquisition by the order he abandoned so long ago, a priest sat quietly in a private room. Barely furnished, a single candle on the table to illuminate the faces of those within was all the lighting to be had in this otherwise dark room. The interrogated man smiled, his face old and wrinkled from the effects of time, but ultimately being... unnerving. There were so many before and surrounding him, none friendly, but he remained so calm and collected, peaceful and almost appeared to be joyful. The aged man, an ex-bishop named Melech Archelaus, had put out the embers in his censer, the smoke of what was burning inside letting out its last few puffs before going motionless and odorless.

Before him sat a younger man, who's face was reminiscent of fire with how furious his base expression would seem, naturally low arching eyebrows with small eyes that seemed to always glare. The younger man forced a cough to alert that he would begin to speak despite the lack of sound before his action.

"You are aware, Bishop, of the crimes being sentenced to you I assume?" The boy started, his expression never wavering from the look of hostilities in stark contrast to the calm and collected visage of his opposition, this man he feels fit to call "Enemy".

"Yes, yes... Dissent against the church, leaving the order of the religious nine, and of course, the highest crime of all - Treason against our lord archminstrel. A shame someone more fitting for the role was never given the choice." The old man spoke, his voice clear and deep in contrast to his wiry, frailish body frame and wilted skin. In spite of his age, he sounded no older than his late twenties.

"Then we are in accord and I am to bring you back to the Chapel to see you hang." The young man started, reaching for his sword as the old man grabbed his censer and mace.

A tisking sound could be heard from the frail man as he stood up - No taller than five feet, four inches in height, he simply stood and stared down the both taller and larger man, a steady smirk on his face that seemed to turn more menacing as time passed.

"Oh I'd love to, but you see.. Templar Ardinam, the visions you are seeing are merely an influenced dream. I do not sit before you, but far, far away. A tool you will reach for but never grasp. And here, I hold power. You may dominate the flesh, but I will learn the Mind's way." The fallen Bishop would cackle, starting to fade into the shape of a Shade.

"But perhaps the most telling deed is this question I shall burn into you, Templar Ardinam:

Are you my nightmare, Templar? ... Or am I Yours? For nothing is ever as it seems..."

Soon, the Templar would waken, his priests reporting that he seemed to have been running a fever as he slept, but it cooled upon his wakening. Could Bishop Archelaus really have obtained a power to let him invade the dreams and minds of others, and from so far away..? The Templar shook his head, and turned to the sky. Where were his gods? Why were they not assisting with his hunt for the traitor?